


Swing Me These Sorrows

by elvesarebad



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Murder, OT4, Polyamory, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvesarebad/pseuds/elvesarebad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>melissa kills peter, and morrell, deaton and the sheriff help her dispose of the body</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swing Me These Sorrows

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: john seems to be the default name for sheriff stilinski so i thought why not; also i feel so weird writing this but also why is peter is alive four months later it makes noooooooo sense okay; literally didn't capitalise a thing whoops
> 
> a/n 2: meanwhile, scott and stiles go see a movie :)
> 
> a/n 3: first published on tumblr and i'm slowly putting my fic up here so yup

peter walks into her house as though he belongs there. he gives her that charming smile of his like it hasn’t been months since that one date they went on, as though he hadn’t attacked her son and turned him into a werewolf. as though he hadn’t changed their lives completely.

melissa returns the smile, but it’s strained, fake, gone again in a couple of seconds. peter doesn’t seem to mind, even smiles a little wider, revealing teeth. trying to ignore the anger welling up within her, melissa ushers him into the kitchen and starts making the tea.

“you wanted to talk to me,” peter says as she hands him the cup of lavender (well, mostly lavender) tea. he deliberately grazes her fingers as he takes the cup and she shivers, her lip curling unintentionally. it only makes him smirk.

“yes,” melissa says, sitting down across from him. she holds her cup in both hands and watches him sip his. “i’d like you to leave town and never return.”

peter laughs. the sound makes her skin crawl. “oh, i’m never leaving,” he tells her, smirking like he thinks he can just get away with everything, never pay for what he’s done. melissa’s hands curl into fists underneath the table. “you’re just going to have to get used to me.”

“you think so?” she replies, and she sounds so calm, calmer than she feels. her heart is beating wildly in her chest and she knows he can hear it. good. let him think she’s afraid. let him think he’s in control.

“oh, i know so.” peter raises the cup to his lips and takes a sip. he grimaces a little. “this is not very good tea, melissa.”

melissa grasps the bat under the table in both hands and swings it, aiming for his head. peter laughs and grabs it in mid air. “did you really think that would  _work_?”

and then he hisses, lets the bat go and glances down at his hand, red and blistering. she silently thanks alan for giving her a bat made out of mountain ash with a steel core. peter looks confused, just for a second, and a second is all she needs.

melissa brings the bat around again and this time it connects. he falls off the stool, tumbles to the ground, and then he glances up at her. red blossoms on his forehead, and he looks almost  _lost_ , his face slack, mouth turned down in a slight frown. he reaches a hand out to her, the one he grabbed the bat with, and it’s already healing.

she hits him again, and again. he starts screaming eventually, when the pain catches up to him, and he tries to scramble away but she follows, relentless. hits him again. “ _that_ ,” she says, “was for your niece.”

she's not really sure what she's saying - she never met laura but somehow the words feel  _right_.

hair falls in front of her eyes and she pushes it back, smudging the blood on her face. he whimpers but she can see his wounds already healing. she hits him again. “and  _that_ was for lydia,” she pants. her muscles are screaming at her to stop, blood rushing in her ears mixing with his screams, his sobs, but she doesn’t listen. hits him again, and again.

“and  _that_ ,” she says between gasps for breath, “was for  _scott_. you utter piece of  _shit_.”

she keeps hitting him. everything she's felt since she first discovered why her son had been lying to her, what he had become, how much his life had changed - fear, horror, disgust, anger, despair,  _rage_  it all wells up, spills over, she can't contain it. he stops moving, goes silent, and still she hits him. she’s crying now, great wracking sobs, and it’s getting hard to even lift the bat. her ponytail has unravelled, her dark hair sticking to her wet cheeks. every time she hits him the image she’s had in her mind ever since scott told her who had done this to him slowly dwindles until it’s nothing, just empty space. and the image of his smirking face leaves with it.

he thought he could get away with it.

he thought  _wrong_.

she falls to her knees, the bat clattering to the ground unheeded. it starts to roll under the table but ends up stuck in the blood on the floor.

hands shaking, whole body shaking, she glances unseeing at his body. and then something  _snaps,_  or maybe the smell of his blood finally reaches her, and she’s scrambling onto her feet and toward the sink, getting there just in time to vomit most of her dinner. and then again when she glances over her shoulder at him. she slumps against the bench, breathing shallowly, trying not to think about anything at all.

it feels like hours – but is really only minutes – before she finally takes a deep breath and straightens up. and then she picks up the phone and calls alan.

“it’s done,” she says as soon as he picks up. she glances down at peter’s body. “now what?”

“we’ll be right over,” alan tells her, and his voice is so soothing. she closes her eyes and just listens, can feel it calming her down. “you should probably go take a shower.”

melissa looks down at herself. her clothes and hands are covered in blood; her face and hair probably are too. “good idea.”

in the shower, she cries again, tears mingling with the water. she scrubs hard at her face and hands until they’re pink and raw but clean. she watches the blood swirl down the drain, feeling oddly disconnected from everything. she turns the nozzle to cold and gasps at the sudden change in temperature. the cold brings her back, makes her shiver. washing her hair makes the smell of blood disappear, replacing it with the strawberry scent of her shampoo.

when she gets out, she’s careful to not step in the blood. dries herself off with a towel and then uses it to wipe the blood off the linoleum. once she’s done – it’ll need going over but for now it’s okay – she wraps her bloody clothes in the towel and puts it in the washing basket. she wraps herself in her bathrobe, rubbing her face against the fluffy material. closing her eyes, melissa sighs and hums a tune.

there’s a part of her that feels horrified about what she’s done. even a part that feels guilty that she doesn’t feel  _more_ horrified. she’s taken a life. it’s something that’s completely against everything she stands for. and yet, she thinks, this...revenge wasn’t about retrieving what had been lost – she knows that is impossible, knows things can never be as they were – but maybe, just maybe, she could stop him from hurting others. and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough. she could live with herself, then.

and he’d thought he could  _get away with it_. even now, the anger bubbles to the surface and she clenches her fists, nails biting into her skin.

she shakes herself, rids herself of the anger at least for the moment.

picking up the washing basket, she heads downstairs.

just as she’s started a wash, she hears a car pull up. there’s a minute of panic before she answers the door, when she thinks it might be a deputy called in by one of her neighbours. she sighs with relief when she sees alan, and then marin and john behind him.

john takes one look at the body and says, “i’ll just go talk to your neighbours, reassure them that what they heard wasn’t their neighbour killing someone.” he leaves quickly, his face pale, and melissa wouldn’t be surprised if he threw up outside. she doesn’t blame him. looking at peter’s body makes bile rise in her throat. she swallows, manages to keep it down.

marin, meanwhile, squats down beside the body and gives it a critical look. “hmm.”

“he’s dead, right?” melissa says, suddenly not sure. he hasn’t moved, she’s sure of that – she thinks she’ll remember what he looks like now for the rest of her life. and it doesn’t seem likely that he’s alive. she can actually see some of his brain now that she’s looking closer.

“looks like,” marin says, but she sounds sceptical. as she stands, she shares a glance with alan. “better safe than sorry, though.” she leaves the room as well, whistling softly under her breath. melissa hears the door open and then close as she leaves the house.

she turns to alan. “he has to be dead, right?”

alan shrugs. “if he’d been an alpha, maybe not. still, better safe than sorry.”

melissa nods, takes a shaky breath. and then, to her surprise, alan wraps her up in his arms, rubbing her back soothingly. she relaxes into the hug, blinks back a few tears, and suddenly she’s just so  _tired_. she hadn’t even known she’d had any tears left but apparently she does. they fall silently and alan holds her throughout.

marin returns just as alan offers melissa a handkerchief. she’s carrying a huge sword and melissa’s mouth drops open, handkerchief and tears forgotten.

marin grins at her. she lifts the sword and gazes along its edge. “took this off the principal’s hands last week. he was glad to be rid of it. and waste not want not, right?”

and then she grips its handle in both hands, lifts it up and brings it down in one foul swoop. the sound it makes as it cuts peter’s body in half is not pleasant. melissa shoves alan aside and runs for the kitchen sink. nothing but bile comes up this time. she turns the tap and washes it down the drain.

“well, he’s definitely dead now,” melissa hears marin say. she sounds almost cheerful.

alan touches her shoulder and melissa turns around. “what do you need?” he asks softly.

and marin is there too, suddenly, a hand on melissa’s shoulder. melissa gives both of them a wobbly smile but it stays put and she means it. “i need to get him out of here.”

alan nods and opens one of the cupboards close by. “where are your rubbish bags?”

“they should be in there,” melissa says absently as marin tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and gives her that really intense look of hers, brows furrowed slightly.  melissa smiles at her and this time it’s not wobbly but firm, and soft.

“found them,” alan says after a short search.

marin glances up. “and i’ll go get the shovels.”

“thought of everything, didn’t you?” melissa says.

marin shrugs, as though the possibility that she hadn’t is completely unthinkable.

“well, your neighbours are taken care of,” john tells them as he enters the room. his hands are shoved deep inside of his jacket pockets and he pointedly does not look at peter’s body. he shifts nervously from one foot to the other and he’s so obviously uncomfortable melissa goes over to him. she hesitates before she touches his arm but she does it anyway. he flinches.

melissa swallows and starts to pull her hand away. john places one hand over hers, keeping it on his arm. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” he says even though it obviously isn’t and takes her in his arms. alan and marin are there too now, their arms around them both and it’s so comforting, somehow – their scent, how close they are, the feel of them against her. melissa closes her eyes and, just for now, everything seems like it’s going to be okay.

marin’s the first one to step away – she’s never been one for prolonged displays of affection.  she pokes john. “ _you_ are going to help me dig the graves.”

grabbing the sword from the table, she walks out the door and john follows her. “graves? as in more than one?” melissa hears him ask.

“yeah, haven’t you heard?” marin says. “when seeking revenge, dig two graves?” she laughs. “anyway, we need to separate the parts of him.”

“oh god,” john moans.

alan squeezes her shoulder and melissa turns back to him. “let’s get to work.”

melissa changes into a grubby pair of jeans and a gray frayed t-shirt that once upon a time used to be white. getting both parts of his body into separate bags is hard and messy work and she doesn’t want to get any blood or brain matter on her nice fluffy bathrobe. it’s tough and she has to touch the body more than she wants to. she feels like throwing up more than once but manages to swallow it down. she’s not alone though. even alan looks a little pale. especially when some of his skull falls off.

alan drags one of the bags out the back door and into the garden. melissa follows with the rest. alan heads over to where john is digging his hole so melissa goes in the opposite direction where marin is just finishing up hers. as melissa approaches, she sticks the shovel into the ground and leans against it. melissa notices marin's dug a hole near the roses and she wonders whether peter will make good fertiliser. she can feel the laughter bubbling up and she's shaking again. pursing her lips, melissa closes her eyes and tries to get a grip on herself. at marin’s nod, she dumps the bag into the hole.

marin starts covering the hole up. melissa stares as the dirt slowly covers the bag until it is lost from sight. it doesn't make her feel any better. and then she looks at the roses. she's a bit too busy to take proper care of them so they've started wilting. maybe it'll do them some good. 

once both holes have been filled up, they meet at the back door. “oh, and i brought some bleach in case you didn’t have any,” marin tells her. nonchalantly, like she cleans up dead bodies all the time.

“and that will stop werewolves from smelling it, will it?” john asks.

marin smiles, shrugs one shoulder. “they’ll get a noseful of bleach, that’s for sure. there are other things that can help in that respect. and yes, i bought those too.”

john smiles but it turns into a grimace. he’s a bit too pale and alan reaches for him, just in case. “you do seem to think of everything...” john trails off, pauses in the middle of the hallway. alan grasps his shoulder and john turns to him and smiles. this one is a little bit better.

“i am  _very_ good at my job,” marin says with a sniff.  it seems callous, as though they don’t already know how good she is, but melissa sees her grab his hand and hold it tightly.  

“ _always_ ,” melissa assures her when marin raises an eyebrow because they haven’t agreed with her. she takes marin’s other hand in her suddenly shaky one. “in fact,” she says as marin smiles and squeezes her hand, “i might need your expertise later.”

marin pulls her close, buries her face in melissa’s hair. “of course,” she says, almost whispers. “anything you need.”


End file.
